


The Jury

by Chocabel



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8651767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocabel/pseuds/Chocabel
Summary: Yann and Roman receive an eagerly awaited letter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All I can say is that they treated us well over the last weeks. And that this is complete and utter crack.

Roman can barely contain his excitement as Yann fishes the dark blue envelope out of their mailbox. 

“Come on, open it already” he whines, following Yann to the kitchen like an overexcited puppy.

“You won’t like the content anyway” Yann winks as they sit down at the table.

“Pfff, as if you stood any chance” Roman huffs haughtily. 

Yann only raises one eyebrow before he opens the envelope and quickly snatches the card that falls out before it has even touched the table. 

“No no no that’s not fair, we read it at the same time.” Roman tries to grab the card, but being handicapped by his cast, it’s more than easy for Yann to hold him away.

Before Roman has even time to pout, Yann’s expression changes from excited to confused to annoyed. 

“They can’t be serious” he groans, hiding his face in his hands before shoving the card to Roman. 

It only takes him a few moments to scan the text before he scowls as well.

They stare at each other for a second.

“Well,” Roman finally drawls, giving Yann a calculating look, “does that mean you give up?”

Yann only smirks back. “In your dreams Buerki!”

“That means the bet is still on?”

“Big time!”

“Fine.”

The card lies forgotten on the table, the neat silver script facing up.

_Dear Yann, dear Roman_

_We tried, really. We watched your last matches really carefully. We took notes and set criteria. We compared, discussed and awarded points. While the results differed in different categories, your final scores ended up being the same._

_Therefore, we can only declare the undershirt battle of the first half of the season a draw._

_Love,  
Manu  & Ralf_

_P.S.: Try ripping the sleeves off for bonus points. Manu_

_P.P.S.: But Manu’s arms are unrivalled anyway. Ralf_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crack continues.

This time, the royal blue envelope looks rather threatening. It might have to do with the bright red banderole wrapped around it, which carries in black capital script: LETTER OF WARNING.

The look Yann and Roman share is uneasy before both stare back at the envelope. It's a small thing, and the only thing on Roman's kitchen table but still both men observe it very cautiously. 

„Umm...“, Roman's voice clearly shows his hesitancy, „...why don't you open it?“

„Why me?“ Yann whines.

„Because you were so eager to open the last one?“ Roman snaps back as the unpleasant memory of Yann holding him away from the letter effortlessly resurfaces.

„See, I opened the last one, your turn.“ 

Yann returns Roman's incredulous look defiantly until the latter snorts impatiently.

„Fine scaredy-cat, I'll do it.“

(Even the tearing noise of the paper sounds dangerous.)

He takes a deep breath and quickly scans the written card before putting it back on the table.

„So????“ Yann pushes, „what does it say?“

Silently, Roman slides the paper over to him.

_Bürki,  
Sommer,_

_Consider this your first warning. We take the time to watch your matches, pay attention to detail and you blatantly refuse. This is not acceptable._

_Here's a hint for you: It's called the undershirt competition. Not the 'look how pretty my curls are after a match' competition. Not the 'have you seen my latest tattoos?' competition. Also not the 'look how cute we look wrapped up in a blanket after a match' competition. It's abot the UNDERSHIRT!_

_So we kindly suggest you get back to business._

_Yours, not amused,  
Manu  & Ralf_

_P.S.: You do look kinda cute wrapped in blankets, just saying (but that's still not the point)._

Yann exhales loudly as he puts the letter back down. This time, the look they share is a guilty one.

„Well,“ Yann finally says slowly, „they aren't wrong, I guess.“

„They aren't,“ Roman sighs. „We need to focus again. After all, I'm already looking forward to you loosing.“ 

The grin is back on his face. There is no snarky retort though, Yann merely winks at him before he moves quickly around the table, straddling Roman. 

„Not a snowball's chance in hell!“ The challenge in his voice is a strong contrast to the hands wandering gently under Roman's sweater and over his skin. 

„But thinking about it, I don't think I have seen your latest tattoo closely enough yet.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is still a lie, sorry. But still, I'd love to hear your thoughts :).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just so sorry for not updating for so long! I've written snippets here and there but didn't get to really finalise them. I still decided to post them although the timeline is messed up now. Just imagine this part to be set around end of February/early March I'd say. 
> 
> I hope you still like it. ....and yes, it's still utter crack and as far from the truth as it could be.

It's late already when Ralf opens the door to Manu's house after the long drive. He tries to be very quiet when he takes off his shoes, not the careless chucking off that's his usual style. But when he wants to tiptoe upstairs to the bedroom, he sees the soft light shining through under the door to the living room.

Sighing, he makes his way to the living room, nudging the door open and is greeted with an all-too familiar sight as he spots Manu on the couch - again, surrounded by a number of books - again, nose deeply stuck in one – again.

He steps closer but Manu still doesn't react, too immersed in his reading. 

It's not until Ralf gently plucks the book from his hands that blue eyes finally look up to him, clearly surprised before a hint of defiance gleams up and he holds on to the book Ralf wants to take away from him. 

„Please give me the book back, I just need to check....“

„You need to stop this Manu.“

„But...“

„No but. It's time to stop.“ He sounds stern and for a second Manu looks like he still wants to object before he sinks back into the couch, frustration evident in the sudden slackness of his body. 

„Have you seen today's matches? And them? And me? I don't know what else I can do Ralf. I mean...“

Ralf doesn't let him finish. 

„You already did more than enough Manu. Look, I really admire your dedication to research and science. But this...“, he gestures at the vast number of books scattered over the couch table, „needs to stop. 'Leading by example', 'How to set the perfect example', 'Don't tell, show' ….what else do you even think you could do?“

„Ok, but look....“, Manu straightens, fishing for the book Ralf just took from him, browsing through the pages.

There's a loud smack as Ralf slams the book shut forcefully. 

„I said no.“

Blue eyes bore into brown, a silent duel until Manu averts his eyes, looking somehow defeated and Ralf – is just overcome with a surge of fondness fuzzing all through him.

He carefully places the book back on the table and kneels in front of Manu, searching his gaze again.

„Look, I know you take this seriously and that's ok. But it was their idea and if they are not playing along you can parade around in your undershirt for all that you want – which I definitely agree with by the way– and it won't change anything. So, why don't you stop thinking for a while and deal with me? Because,“ he straightens up, opening the zipper of his sweatjacket, „contrary to the Swiss idiots **I** got your message.“

He loves seeing Manu's eyes light up at the sight of the dark blue undershirt, fitting tightly against his chest. Lighting up, crinkling and then Manu is laughing loudly, the tension easing out of his shoulders. 

„So?“ He plays along, twirling around and showing off, letting the sweatjacket fall to the ground. „Your score please.“

Manu's quick grip to his wrist along with a sharp pull surprises him. With a yelp he loses his balance, stumbling towards Manu and crashing ungracefully onto the couch – only to feel Manu manoeuvering him under himself in the blink of an eye.

„You,“ and he grins happily down on Ralf „get 10 points in every category for being my most favourite idiot in undershirt on the planet“.

**Author's Note:**

> Fiction. Pure fiction using the public persona of some footballers. None of this ever happened.


End file.
